


Less Than

by cyus (cruentum)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Scat, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek watches Jackson jerk off. They both know what Jackson is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Than

They climb into the sewers. The stink has Jackson retching within moments, not-quite-liquid flowing around his ankles.

They don't talk about this shit (pun etc.) Not whenever Derek appears in the showers, after school, when everyone is around. Not when it's just them either. Derek followed him down here a while ago, caught him with his trousers around his ankles, his fist on his cock with Beacon Hills' wastewater sloshing around him mid-thigh high, and now they climb down together.

Jackson jumps the last few feet from the ladder, splashing up dirty water a he lands. It soaks into his trousers, some getting on his shirt, more landing on his crotch, but the shit only comes up to his ankles here, not too deep. Derek remains crouched above the stream, shards of sunlight glancing just past his head and burning into Jackson where he stands.

"Go on," Derek says.

Jackson looks up to him once then stares down the tunnel leading towards nothing as he unbuttons his shirt and drops it in the mess at his feet, pushes his trousers and underwear down until both are pooled around his ankles.

He knows how this goes. And as he first drop to his knees, then slowly lays back, the sun half-blinds him as it haloes around Derek. The water rolls up his thighs, across his crotch to his stomach and up his chest, just barely leaving his face waste-free. Sometimes Derek makes him submerge completely.

"Look at me," Derek says today though, and Jackson tries, against the sun and the stink. "Is that how dirty you are?" he asks. "Go on."

Jackson nods, spilling some of the shit water over his lips, making Derek chuckle, but he grabs for his cock and slowly wanks himself. He rubs from base to tip, getting his fist just above the surface before plunging back down until his knuckles press into his balls only to force his hand up again.

He's watching Derek watching him throughout, listens when Derek tells him that he's full of shit, that this is all he gets. He's watching Derek watching him stroke his cock, using everyone else's wastes for lube.

"I don't think you could get much lower," Derek says when Jackson is getting harder and getting off on this.

He's right, but Jackson doesn't close his eyes, doesn't start humming some incessant song from the radio over Derek's words like he would have before. Songs don't drown out truths.

They'd have never given him away if he was worth more than shit, even then. He's hardly worth more now.

Derek leaves him after he comes. Just climbs out and douses the sewers in darkness until there's only Jackson's hand on his cock, the sound of the water and the darkness around him. Until there's nothing but shit (no pun, not now).

They win the next game and the one after. There are celebrations, and he's on top of the fucking world, but he sees Derek in the stands. And they both know what he is.


End file.
